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BOOK 0: FIELDS OF FIRE Chapter xii

The Man from Carzon

By Jay Michael JonesPublished 3 years ago 42 min read
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Gareth was not surprised when he was called to the Royal Chambers that evening. He was sure to be upbraided for his actions of late. After all, who was he to presume where the princess was concerned? Indeed, who was he to fight for or to court anyone? Cantina gossip or no, he noticed no woman looked his way lately, unless it was in speculation over his and Carrol's relationship.

Relationship. Oh, if only it could be termed that. A relationship with Carrol Shanaugh de Phillipi was the stuff of dreams for Gareth, dreams that were increasingly detailed and made him miserable by their unsatisfactory nature.

He entered at the king's bidding and shown by gesture to a soft, gorgeously upholstered chair, like the other beautifully appointed pieces in the Royal Chambers. Here was luxury. Any Thuringi could have this kind of luxury if they wanted it, but only the royals and a few nobles ever chose to use complete sets. Furniture of this quality was impractical for everyday use. Most people Gareth knew preferred clean lines; fancy carvings were nice to admire but not to use. He eased down into the chair, and his hands tightened their grip on the armrests when he saw that his king and queen studied him from chairs opposite from him.

"Your Majesties," he acknowledged.

"We are extremely impressed with your ability with a sword, Major Duncan. It has occurred to us that we know so little about you," Lycasis said. Gareth was uncertain whether the 'we' was the Royal We or used as an inclusion of his wife in a personal matter.

"I am from the farming community of Carzon, Your Majesty," Gareth told him. "I am the eldest son of Denys and Maribel Duncan de Gordon."

"Gordon! Are you in any way related to our late General Shanaugh? He was also a Gordon," Oriel said.

"Yes, Your – Your Majesty," Gareth replied, staunching the instinct to call her 'Your Nibs' as he did Carrol. "He was a distant numbered cousin from my mother's paternal side. Quite distant."

"I have seen the startling revelation that you are the last Duncan to carry the name, among all of Thuringa. Is that true?" Lycasis asked.

"As far as I can tell, it is true," Gareth replied. "Carzon and Apolia were decimated in the early attacks, and the Duncan clans were located in the surrounding lands."

"Do be so kind as to tell us the tale of your family," Lycasis requested as he poured drinks for them all. Gareth took only a sip of his and set it on the small table before them. He was much too nervous to drink.

“We were a large family, quite large. Six children, all of us very loved and very much wanted. We raised gakki and bran and falfan. I was in consue when Father fell ill, and I remained home. When he did not get better, it was up to me to garner hours for the family. Mother ran the ranch, and I went to Carzon to work hours. It was the only solution we had.”

“Six children are a lot of children,” Lycasis agreed.

“It was not overwhelming when everyone was healthy," Gareth told him. "Mother’s gifted task was as a weaver and tailor, and quite handy with turning over clothing and renovating our old cloth. We grew extra crops to support our appetites. The little ones did not require a great deal more, except for Trane – he seemed to end up wearing as much as he ate. Pattie and Clive and I shared chores, and it was not as much a hardship as all that.” Oriel smiled at the affection that was so obvious in Gareth's voice.

“What about the other three?” she asked. "Did they not share in tasks as well?"

“They all died in their childhoods; none of them made it as far as consue.”

“Oh, how sad! If you do not mind, what happened to them?”

“Gailey was the baby of the family,” Gareth said as he toyed idly with his sash. “He was out playing at the edge of the wood when he was five, just about a year after the census. Father and I were working with one of our gakkis in the same field. We heard Gailey scream and saw him run toward us with a beran after him. Father and I had our swords and pistols, so we ran toward him. But he was between the beran and us, and we could not get a safe shot without fear of hitting him. It caught him and grasped him in its mouth and shook him, then flung him aside. I shot at it then. Father had to stop running; his sickness often left him short of breath, so I kept running. The beran jumped on Gailey again, and I shot it again. By the time I got to them, the beran was dying, and Gailey was dead.”

The Phillipis sat listening solemnly. Nobles since birth, neither experienced a death in the family as youths. Oriel had gladly given up much of her strength for the sake of her children, so she understood the fear of loss, if not the loss itself.

“Gailey was always getting into trouble of some kind or other,” Gareth recalled fondly. “He enjoyed diving into the gakki’s water pool by the barn, and he somehow got into the water well when he was four. We had to lower Pattie on a rope to get him out, because she was the only one slender enough who would fit. Once, he burst a sack of flour all over himself on the way home from the supply house in Carzon, and there was a long white trail all the way to our ranch. By the time we got back, the only flour that was left was covering a little white boy. All you could see was the yellow of his eyes.” Gareth laughed at the memory. “He was constantly climbing onto gakkis that were far too large for him or leaping from the rooftop onto hay piles or scrambling up and down trees. We could only guess that he startled the beran or even tried to pet it.”

Oriel murmured her sympathy. Gareth cleared him throat and continued, as if driven to tell the tale. “Father blamed himself for it, even though none of it was his fault. He was sickly, and simply could not run fast enough. Even if he could have made it in time, one can only do so much against an enraged beran. My other two smaller brothers were just like Gailey; they were happy little mites who knew no fear and loved their lives every minute. Canon was our third youngest. A couple of years after Gailey died, we went to Carzon one day for supplies. Canon stood with a group of people to watch a building being constructed. Father had just called to him to get ready to go home when a brace gave way, and a roof truss fell into the crowd. Canon and three other people died, and a score of others were injured. Father felt that if he had not indulged Canon so, he would have made him come away sooner. Father just got worse. He coughed all the time, terrible deep coughs that sometimes left him too weak to stand.”

“What did he have?” Lycasis asked.

“The medicals said he had Bran Fitt.”

The king and queen nodded in complete understanding at the term. Bran Fitt was a malady that occasionally struck the ordinary laborer in the old days. It was a respiratory disease that attacked the lining of the lungs in susceptible patients which left the lungs dry and painful, triggered by constant exposure to dust and airborne particles. A few mild cases were cleared up with a simple treatment of medicine and fresh air, but some people were allergic to the treatment and could not be helped. Called ‘the commoner’s disease’ by the higher born, it was held in disdain by them until the Shargassi attacks began and vegetation in stricken areas withered and died. The air in many places became more dangerous, and people of every station were stricken with similar symptoms.

“Was he allergic?” she asked.

Gareth nodded. “Then, just as he began to accept that perhaps accidents just happen and there was nothing he could have really done about either of them, we lost Trane. He was twelve by then and ready for consue training. The morning we were to take him to Carzon for his first lesson, he was out helping Pattie groom one of our prized gakki and another one crowded it. The one they were grooming kicked out with its foot just as Trane reached for it, and it struck his head. The medicals came out but there was nothing they could do. He never awoke; never recovered. He just lay in bed in the same room as Father and faded away over the next four ginta.”

“I suppose your Father blamed himself for that, as well,” Lycasis commented, his voice thick with emotion.

“Yes, he did. He thought he should have been the one taking care of the gakkis, he should not have allowed Trane to go out there that morning, everything. He blamed himself for being a commoner with a lowly disease that robbed our hours with medical requirements. After we buried Trane, Father forced himself to get up and go out to work; he was terrified that something might happen to Pattie or Clive or me in the course of doing a task he felt he should be doing. We could not convince him to stop. He was out in the rain when he collapsed for the last time. He was only one hundred thirty-five years old.” His eyes were moist, as were Oriel and Lycasis's.

“Name of All,” Lycasis whispered thoughtfully. “That is younger than Carrol is now. Whatever did your mother do?”

“What Mother always did. She prayed,” Gareth said, with an edge in his voice. “I stopped going to services after Canon died. I could not bear to listen to those religious nibs ramble on about God’s alignment of the stars and the wisdom of His eternal plans. What purpose did it serve this vast eternal plan of God’s, to rob little boys of their young lives and rip apart the heart of a father while it still beat in his chest?”

He began to pluck the tassel strings off his sash, no attention to what he was doing and stared at nothing as he spoke. It did not cross his mind that Oriel was the daughter of one of those 'religious nibs', or that Lycasis the king was the titular head of the Church faithful.

"I made my peace with God. I do not believe He deliberately intended any of it specifically to happen. The God I trust does not punish the innocent. But I vow I will be struck down before I will accept that somewhere in the heavens, it was God’s idea that a beran would kill a helpless boy. Or, that the stars dictated a building would fall at a precise moment in time, or that God himself arranged for a gakki to give an errant kick! I do not believe God Himself singles out everyone each to his own. I think that sometimes individual stars just align themselves and God works on the outcome, after the fact.”

“Major Duncan,” Oriel said in amazement.

“Heretical, is it?” Gareth said with a shrug, still plucking at his tassel, as if he was speaking to Carrol and not the Queen. “That is what the Carzon vicar said to me, when he came out to our house when Trane finally passed. My brother was lying there, a hole in the side of his head as big as your fist, with my father cradling him in his arms trying to breathe as best as he could as he wept. And that officious gink of a vicar had the audacity to stand in that same room and tell me that Father and Mother mocked the Church of Thuringa for giving birth to more children than God planned for them to have,” Gareth said bitterly. “As if he knew! As if God Himself told him in person! Father was already loaded with imagined guilt, and that passage-quoting bastard was piling on more.”

“Major!” Lycasis said, startled.

“What?” Gareth glanced up, and they realized by the sudden shock on his face that he forgot they were present. "I... I beg your pardon," Gareth stammered with mortification. His throat grew tight. God, he was ruining every chance he had for a future friendship with Carrol. "I... I.... there is no excuse for my words. I –”

“I suppose you have the best of reasons to be bitter," Lycasis said quietly. He appreciated that this young man spoke so openly, as if talking to friends in a cantina or on a porch on Old Thuringa. Lycasis rarely heard startling revelations like these for no one wanted to offend the king. Because he rarely heard what ordinary people really thought, he tended to live in a vacuum and depend on his sons or his daughter to shed the light of Thuringi opinion, whenever they could get it themselves. "We ask very personal questions of you and in doing so, should expect honest personal answers. I remember the Vicar of Carzon. He was indeed a very irritatingly pious individual."

"I meant no offense to your father’s gifted task, Your Majesty," Gareth said miserably to Oriel. "I am so sorry. I am far too common a man to sit in your presence and speak at any length."

"No, I believe you are quite uncommon in a refreshing sort of way," Oriel told him. She read his heart and found his pain almost unbearable for her. "The Vicar of Carzon and the Bishop of Arne were cut from the same bolt, and my father continually disagreed with both of them on many points. I think Father would have appreciated a frank discussion such as yours. Do explain your viewpoint, major; I would genuinely like to know how you feel about religion."

Gareth cleared his throat uncomfortably, but then decided to take her up on her words. If she did not want to hear them, she should not have asked. “The way that whole alignment belief goes, if God has all the stars aligned the way he wants them and there is nothing I can do about it, why trouble myself with what I do or where I have been? Why should we struggle with our problems? Should we just give up and go along with whatever is happening to us? No, and we do not. We continue to fight and toil and work despite the odds. All our lives we have been told that our futures are pre-arranged. That means I would never rise above my station, never be anything but a common farmer’s mite. My surviving brother and sister would have lived out their days scratching at the ground on the ranch if society insisted upon it.

“I decided on the day that Trane died that I was going to test that alignment. In theory, no one in Carzon expected any of us to attend Academy. So, I worked Father’s hours and my hours, and worked on the ranch. Mother and I saw to it that Pattie and Clive went to Academy. Pattie went into medical research and Clive studied physics and astronomy. The bishop and the vicars were wrong. They have no idea about the alignment of the stars, of God’s fate for us all. They only predict what they presume. As I said, I made my peace with God. Like any sensible Thuringi, I believe wholeheartedly in the God of All. I simply do not believe in the unfailing truth of His spokesmen.”

“You did all that for the sake of your brother and sister,” Oriel said with admiration.

“Clive Duncan, Clive Duncan. He is the one who discovered the existence of Farcourt?” Lycasis asked as he racked his memory for information. Gareth nodded.

“Yes, it was his theory as to its whereabouts. My brilliant little brother, discoverer of the unknown universe, predicted or rather estimated the existence of Farcourt and the unknown world between here and there. He called this place ‘Gailey’, but his colleagues preferred to call it the Unknown Planet. So original.”

“What happened to him?” Oriel asked, so completely caught up in Gareth’s tale that she did not consider the question as being as nosy as it was. Gareth noticed no impropriety.

“He often returned to the ranch after I joined the Air Command Auxiliary unit. He was able to do his work anywhere, so he chose to stay with Mother when I was assigned to Arne. He was an unquestioning practitioner of the faith, and that damn – the vicar’s words burned his ears. He was so afraid he would bring grief to a wife that he vowed to never marry. There were a lot of women in Carzon that were the sadder for his decision. Then he came down with Bran Fitt, himself. The very thing he tried to spare a wife, he revisited on Mother unintentionally.”

“Good God, your poor mother!” Lycasis exclaimed. “Did she ever have a moment’s happiness?”

“She was happy every moment with Father,” Gareth said upon reflection. “No matter what happened in their lives, he concentrated on pleasing her and just being near him made her happy. They never lost their enthusiasm for each other or us, right up to the end. Clive amused her constantly; just because he never married, did not mean he did not have a thrilling narrative to paraphrase for her. And Pattie; oh God! She and Pattie chattered together like schoolmates, like sisters. Mother was only one hundred fifteen when Father died.” It occurred to him that Their Majesties were nearly slack jawed with astonishment, something one would not expect from proper nibs. “She was seventy-five when they wed,” he clarified.

“They were barely more than children, themselves,” Lycasis said in awe.

“But they were happy with what time they had together,” Gareth agreed. “When Pattie married, she married early and bore children when she was far under one hundred. The children were like a new lease on life for Mother. I made her and Clive move to Gallina with me, and he seemed to get a little better by the sea air. Mother was happy because she was near Pattie and Bern and the children. I was transferred to Arne with General Shanaugh, so they stayed in Gallina. Eventually, the Bran Fitt took Clive. Mother and Pattie and her family were lost in the latter phase of the destruction. I was so busy working that I was completely at odd ends when they died. I had a sweetheart, but she... well, she found an allegedly better man in Colonel Hellick and spurned me."

"Colonel Hellick, the same Colonel Hellick as today?" Lycasis asked.

"Yes," Gareth sighed. "I must say, I was better off without my former interest anyway. She was never happy with the fact that I am a mechanic and not a properly learned man like my brother, or a professionally trained officer like Colonel Hellick. I earned my commission through my labors. Every man wants to be appreciated in whatever capacity he finds himself." He chuckled. "She probably was not pleased to know the Massic Surrell was not over her."

"But instead, it was over our daughter Carrol, and the wicked statement made," Lycasis said. "You seem like an honorable man, Major Duncan, and we do appreciate your deed today." He wanted to say something more but could not find the proper words. Gareth had no idea what he had on his mind, but Oriel did.

"Of course, there are no improprieties that would give credence to such an awful charge," she said, and the man from Carzon picked up on the unspoken request for clarification.

"Absolutely not," Gareth assured her. "We are friends, comrades; nothing more."

"Major Duncan," Lycasis began again, and paused. How does one go about inquiring –

"Are you in love with our daughter, sir?" Oriel asked quietly from the chair beside him. Lycasis inwardly groaned. Oriel could cut to the chase so much better than he, but he preferred to take a circuitous route. It was seemlier.

"I am fond of your daughter, Your Majesty," Gareth acknowledged, slowly weighing his words before he spoke. "I suppose, I love her in an appreciative capacity."

"Meaning?" Lycasis asked.

"I mean, I appreciate her presence. I like her. I would do whatever she required of me; that kind of love."

"We have seen the lengths you will go in order to defend her honor. And just what else would she require of you?" Lycasis asked, and he told himself he sounded like his to-the-point wife.

"Just... she just asks me to be her friend. Hold her hand when she needs a boost. Tell her when she is on the right track or if she has done something stupid," he cut his sentence off suddenly as he reflected that perhaps their royal majesties might not appreciate their only daughter being cited as being stupid every now and then.

"Go on," Lycasis nodded. Gareth's lack of tact was actually refreshing, something akin to Oriel's forthright tongue.

"I do not mean that she is not smart or unattractive or anything like that," Gareth wished he were a better speaker and wondered what he was going to say in this completely extemporaneous speech. He plunged on. "But she is lonely, like I am. I have no one left to talk to – not that I am very good at that – but she and I get along, you know. She does not seem to mind that I am so clumsy. I do not have to always talk. Sometimes it is enough just to hold someone's hand and have a good cry." The lump in his throat made it hard to swallow.

He continued, as if to explain to himself. "I used to talk to my family, my sister Pattie and my brother Clive and Mother, but they are gone now. They are all dead. And I do not pretend I am taking anyone's place with her. I am not at all like General Shanaugh; he was her everything. When she lost him, she was almost mad for it. I finally told her she was being selfish and enough was enough, and to get on with life as he would have wanted, because she needed to hear it. She needed someone to talk common sense to her without all that lordly high and mighty royal dialect. And she is a woman, she needs someone to hold without worrying about, you know; anything. I am just there to... to be her crying cloth, and she is there to be mine."

He stared down at his calloused, hard working hands and wondered how their majesties could imagine him presume to touch the sublime Carrol Shanaugh in any unseemly way. "She is a wonderful, precious thing, and I want to see that she is safe and loved and secure. I cannot do anything for the family I had. All I can do is pretend that I am one of her brothers, and I can look after her. I used to, for Pattie." He sniffed in a vain attempt to quell his runny nose and heard an echoing sniff in front of him. He looked to witness both the King and Queen of Thuringa as they scrambled for comfort cloths. Lycasis handed one to Gareth, and they all blew their noses in concert.

"We feared you might have ulterior designs on Carrol," Oriel sighed. "We did not realize the depth of your attentions." The emotion in his heart spoke to her clearer than any words could have to the inner ear of the mystical Oriel.

Gareth shook his head, miserable. He cried in front of the king. He was loath to cry in front of anyone, but especially his royal leader. He struggled to clarify himself. "I am very fond of her, of course, but I cannot allow myself to think like that."

"Why not?" Oriel asked gently, and Gareth shook his head again.

"I am not an average sort; even for a common man." He blew his nose again and looked again at the king. "Your Majesty, I am sorry if I embarrassed you and your daughter earlier on the Freen. We were laughing over the prospect of your daughter playing matchmaker for me with one of her friends. I did not have a clean cloth handy, and she was fussing over my unkempt appearance in case one of them showed up."

Lycasis nodded. "I have not considered Carrol still needing a shoulder to cry on, although it has probably been obvious all this time. No, Gareth Duncan, I am the one who is sorry. I believe you are right, that there are times when we 'high and mighty royals' need to be more plainspoken and honest with each other." Gareth's complexion turned red with mortification. "I am a king, yes, but I was a young man once and probably blunter of speech than you."

"I can guarantee he was," Oriel said with an impish smile. "Are you the one who calls Darien and Carrol, 'Your Royal Nibs'?" Gareth bit his bottom lip as he nodded. She laughed. After a moment, Lycasis smiled too.

"I like it," he said. "Mind you, not in royal court."

"No, sire, I would not dream of that."

“Well, we have kept you long, and no doubt you would prefer relaxing to having your ear bent by a pair of old royals,” Oriel observed.

“I have enjoyed talking to you,” Gareth replied. “Her Ni - um, Her Highness has a great deal of your graciousness in her.”

Oriel laughed; she knew he was about to say, “Her Nibs”, and he bit his lip again and tried not to smile back at her. “And the rest,” Oriel assured him, “is pure agitation!”

He could not resist an explosion of delighted laughter. Lycasis looked at Gareth, smiled widely and nodded. Gareth took his leave then, relieved he was able to go without being cut off at the knees as he expected when he first arrived at the royal chambers.

Lycasis carried Oriel to bed. "He is very charming," she mused as she leaned against the might of her husband's massive shoulder.

"Mmm. If he were not such an open sort, I would suspect him of cunning. But his blunt speech declares an honesty I can trust. And yes, I can see how Carrol might find him appealing." Lycasis put her on the bed and got a nightgown from her wardrobe. He never allowed aides in his reign to look after his wife. Lycasis was happy to serve her whenever possible. He helped her dress for bed, taking his time of course. "I was prepared to object to him, but I find that I like him."

"As do I. We must be extremely careful about this one."

"We? Why must we be careful, Carrol is the one who must take care."

"Lycasis, my love," Oriel sighed. She put her arms around his neck and tenderly looked into his eyes. "Maranta and Carrol were thwarted by age-old traditions that are as passed away as our homeland. This Gareth Duncan is a new man for a new age, an age that will require things from our people they are not used to needing. He is strong enough to take care of her and to protect her, but flexible enough to flow with the change of the times. He denies the charge, but the love is there, and a love that tender must be carefully guarded as it grows."

"Darien is right," Lycasis laughed and kissed her neck. "Women are all about love in its variety."

Carrol answered the buzzer dumbly in her struggle to awaken. She smiled when she saw the relaxed grin on Gareth's face. Wordlessly she held out her hand and he took it in his gently. "Well, little sis," he said, "how about a shot of ale for what ails you?" She choked back a laugh and put her arms around his neck to hug him.

"There is nothing I would enjoy more." He waited for her as she dressed. They decided to go to the Standard cantina where they joined a booth full of friends and chatted for a time. After the friends left, she and Gareth stayed and discussed his ideas for the Freen.

Presently Darien entered and joined them. "Well, the two of you can deny it all you wish; I for one think you look unnervingly cozy here."

"You would not know cozy if it ran up and bit you," Carrol scoffed at her brother.

"No, but I do know that if a man fought for a woman's honor with such ferocity and then took her out for a glass of ale, that would be the epitome of cozy." He openly laughed at their expressions. "I would, however, recognize oppressed guilt when I see it."

"We are friends," Gareth pointed out.

"Just friends," Carrol agreed.

"Oh, of course, I know that," Darien laughed, and waved away their discomfort. But how long will it take the two of you to figure out you are more than that?

Tomas Hellick sat in a soft chair in his quarters and stared at a softly lit amusement globe and the ever-changing shapes inside its enclosure. It was the only source of light currently in use in the Hellick apartment; Lia went to bed without a word to him. It was just as well; Tomas had something to think about, something that haunted him.

"Only too happy to oblige your death wish, Tomas-sa," Gareth said to him at the end of their duel. Was it really just a coincidence that Gareth Duncan used the same phrase to taunt Tomas as Maranta Shanaugh once used?

It was during the time before the destruction of Thuringa, when Maranta took a platoon to a world colonized by Thelan. The ongoing dispute between the Thelan and the Scoda as to the actual legal claimant of the world made Tomas ready to barrel in to settle it once and for all, but Maranta shook his head.

"This is not our fight. This is between the Thelan who are established here, and the Scoda who claim first colony rights before them. No one has asked us to step in, Tomas. We are only here to observe."

"Well, we should make it clear that this is a waste of our time," Tomas had said, and Maranta gave him the weary look of a seasoned veteran.

"Only too happy to oblige your death wish, Tomas-sa," Maranta said, using the extra syllable as a mother used a nickname on an overly indulged child that he used privately now and then to correct Tomas, "Any time you wish to stand up to two volatile groups of people and give them orders as to what they should do, you are welcome to it. I will be sure to arrange a proper burial for you." He was not smiling by the end of his statement, and Tomas realized the situation was far graver than he thought.

Of course, General Shanaugh was right that no one should ever tell a Thelan what to do, or a Scodan that perhaps he is taking advantage of interstellar trust. But why did the phrase come forth from Gareth Duncan? Had General Shanaugh told him of the nickname? Why would he? Tomas suddenly remembered Gareth's glowing eyes and the frightening feeling that something, someone, was within that glow. And the demand for apology - 'For Carrol, and Gareth'. In the third person.

Tomas quickly rose. To lose a duel to a common mechanic to whom his wife constantly compared and found Tomas lacking, was bad enough. To lose his mind about something he surely imagined was out of the question.

If his bedroom seemed colder than his sitting room, Tomas sourly attributed it to his wife's presence. She was still angry: angry that he lost, angry that he was not as versatile in bed as Gareth Duncan, angry that he had not spoken out against the teasing by the darker Phillipi and the Ardenne waterman in the cantina. Well, how could he; that Phillipi was a cosseted prince of the Royal House of Phillipi and the waterman was the brother-in-law of the crown prince. To be perfectly honest, Tomas would have said the same things as they, if he had been any further into a bottle of Borelliat wine.

She was also angry that he had not told her the real reason behind the Massic Surrell. He had been surprised and pleased with himself when he succeeded in stealing Lia away from the unheralded ship mechanic only days before their planned announcement of devotion for betrothal. She was the pretty object of many a man's attention, and Tomas was loath to see her wed Gareth Duncan instead of him.

The entire Duncan family grated on his nerves. An attractive young woman like Maribel Duncan should not have worn widow weeds for the rest of her days after Denys’ death, and she rebuked Tomas as strongly as she did other men who sought her hand. Pattie Duncan was a comely girl as well, but she not only turned him down, she wrestled him to the ground and forced him to vow to leave her alone!

And the smart brother Clive – Tomas went into a funk just thinking of him. Clive was Lia’s first choice, but he refused to make a commitment to any woman because of his illness. That commitment did not prevent him from dallying with every woman Tomas wanted, and after him Tomas proved a poor substitute. When Lia turned to the lesser-known Duncan brother, Tomas made his move.

Lia’s interest in Gareth was mostly physical, with highly entertaining conversations between exciting sexual encounters. During Gareth’s long hours building the fleet, Tomas approached the neglected lady and convinced her that he, Tomas Hellick, was on the fast track to respectability and royal regard, totally sincere in his interest. It was satisfying to see the look on Duncan's face when she told the mechanic he would never amount to much and she was tired of being ignored and left the flight hanger on Tomas's arm. But now Gareth the simple farmer's son, the humble mechanic, just pulled off an incredible upset all for the sake of the much sought-after Princess of Thuringa, and not for the former belle of Gallina, Lia Neo.

Well, well, Tomas thought as he crawled into bed beside her, not concerned he might disturb her slumber. She chose the wrong side of the coin; that is all. She will have to accept it.

When Echo Garin's fifteenth birthday came, Glendon and Janis indulged in a little party for her in the Smoke and Mirror cantina on the Quantid. It was an excellent setting for such an occasion, as it did not serve alcohol beverages in favor of light fizzing drink called wizzars. Families like to bring their children for treats now and then without worry that a quasch might break out among rowdy pilots or bored civilians.

The birthday of One-Five was a highlight of Thuringi adolescence. It was traditionally a coming of age, a time of great celebration. All was lighthearted in this gathering of Echo's friends and family. She laughed in uproarious delight at the wrist slingshot that Erich gave her and whistled appreciatively at the books that Triton presented to her. A consue classmate gave her a rakish hat, a grand swooping warrior-style one with a wide brim and a pompous rheamor feather splaying out and back from it. She pulled the hat over her head and made a face for the amusement of her guests.

Her Garin grandparents gave her a Pleonian sword of her own, in the tradition of One-Five gifts from paternal grandparents. Her Neo grandmother perished during the siege of Old Thuringa, so her grandfather presented her with a box. "She wanted me to give it to you for your One-Five," Lezale Neo told his granddaughter, "So I have held onto this for some time." Echo tore into the box with zeal and pulled out a beautiful garment, iridescent white which changed colors according to the angle at which it was seen. It was a long-sleeved, form-fitting tunic styled dress with a hemline at the calf, slit up both sides to mid-thigh. Included with it were plain white leggings and shoes. With an exclamation of delight, Echo darted off to the Smoke and Mirror storeroom to try the outfit on. Her guests chatted among themselves casually.

Darien entered the "Fizz Bar" as he called it with a small package. "Where is the birthday celebratee?" he asked Glendon and Janis.

"She is trying on a gift from her late grandmother," Janis explained. "It is nice to have you visit, Darien." Very few Thuringi bothered to call Darien by his princely title and he preferred it that way.

"Well, she is a future Naradi if ever there was one," Darien told them. "I may as well smooth up to her now, so she will perhaps forgive me some future mischief and keep me out of Royal Court." Glendon laughed and handed him a drink. Darien saw Tomas and Lia Hellick to one side in conversation with the grandparents. Darien made a face before he sipped his drink.

Glendon followed his line of sight and chuckled. "Yes, sometimes I forget that they are my in-laws. Out of sight, hopefully out of mind but we could not very well ignore them. On the bright side, your nephew Erich came to the festivities. Tomas is so sour and Erich is so full of his crown that the two are like repelling forces. Of course, Lia has always been fond of Echo, so of course they were going to come."

"Oh my!" they heard Echo exclaim. "I do not think it fits!"

"Come show us," her grandfather Lezale called out. "One of the tailors can take it up."

"I do not think that is the problem," Echo said as she emerged from the stockroom at a skip. She stopped short at the looks on the faces of her guests and family. No, taking it up was not the problem, nor was it too small. On the contrary, it followed her form gently, every curve caressed by the shimmering fabric. Her long blonde hair, free from its braid, hung down to her waistline.

The girl cadets all exclaimed over the beauty of the garment. Her grandparents nodded, pleased. Triton and Erich stared at her in a way that both pleased her and made her uneasy; her Uncle Tomas Hellick tried not to stare and failed completely. Aunt Lia and Mother were pleased at the sight of their respective niece and daughter. Darien Phillipi wore a particularly naughty grin and her father Glendon smacked in the forehead with consternation.

Echo suddenly remembered the spectacle Lyra Medina made of herself on the first day of consue training. "If...if it is unseemly, Father, I will take it off and put it away."

Janis said, "You will do no such thing! You are a young woman of Thuringa, Echo. It fits perfectly, and there is no better place to wear it than a party." She hugged her daughter.

"Oh, I want a hug," Triton suddenly exclaimed.

"No," Glendon snapped quickly.

"Just a little hug," Erich suggested.

"No," Glendon repeated. "Keep your hands off."

Darien removed his gift from its box and presented it to her. "Well, this is going to look silly next to that feminine attire," he told her, "but something tells me you are going to need it from now on." She gasped at the small silver pistol with sparkling green jewel inlays. "I saw how well your target practice is going," he said as he towered over her. "If you are going to be my future Naradi, you will need something to wear at formal occasions." She oohed in vocal delight at the gift as her slim fingers skimmed over the surface of the pistol in awe.

She looked up and did not see a Prince of Thuringa or a consue instructor, or even an adult male bachelor with a legendary eye for beautiful women. Echo only saw a generous, considerate warrior who acknowledged her proficiency as a cadet warrior-in-training. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him as she would an uncle. She was after all a teenaged girl thrilled at an unexpected but very welcome gift. "Thank you, Darien Phillipi de Saulin!" she said into his ear excitedly. "It is just what I always wanted; it really is!"

"Mmm," Darien responded as he returned the hug. He abruptly recognized the necessity to remove himself from the premises as quickly as possible. "Just remember not to play with it. It is a real pistol, so handle it with care," he lectured in order to take his mind off of what was on his mind.

"I will, I will," she promised as she let him go, and turned to her friends. "Is it beautiful? Is it just so grand?"

"Yes, you are," Erich said. "The pistol is nice, too."

"Oh, stop your flattery," Echo told him. "This is the best birthday I have ever had! No wonder the One-Five is such a looked-for event."

Darien patted Glendon on the shoulder on his way out of the Smoke and Mirror. "Good luck, old boy," he told his friend. "I am glad I do not have a beautiful daughter to worry about."

Glendon turned to Janis. "She really is beautiful, is she?"

"Yes," Janis agreed with a smile, and the smile grimaced slightly at the young male guests. "Damn," she muttered. "Every one of them is smitten."

Darien went straight to the Freen, stripped naked, and jumped into the chilly waters of the cargo. An alarm went off and footsteps approached.

“Get out of there!" Brent Ardenne bellowed. "Have you no regard for the aquatic creatures of Thuringa?"

"Sorry, old boy," Darien told him when he surfaced. "I was more concerned about taming the unruly creature on my person."

"What?" Brent asked, amused again.

"Glendon's child, Echo Garin is a very talented cadet."

"Yes, she is my Triton's best friend. So?"

"Well, you had better have him dip himself into cold waters often, then," Darien suggested as he tread water. "She is not a little girl anymore. She is enough to make a man salute twice with only one hand."

"What... oh." Brent's quizzical brows shot upward. "Is she, now."

"Oh, yes," Darien said in a way that left no doubt it was true.

"Well, unless you want that big black parmenter to bite it off, I suggest that you and your weapon of choice get out of the water right now." Darien looked around and spied a fifteen-foot specimen with sharp teeth coming right at him. He bounded out of the water in a rush and barely avoided being the main course on the parmenter's menu.

"That is why we have 'No Swimming' signs all over," Brent scolded as he casually tucked away the pistol he had drawn to protect the prince. "You chose the one tank that holds the killers."

"Well, at least my weapon of choice is able to be holstered again," Darien replied as he pulled his dry clothing over his wet body.

Brent let Darien struggle by himself. After all, it was not he who jumped in fully clothed and then did not towel off as a sensible Aquatic would. Damn airman!

"All right," Darien said when he saw the look on Brent's face. "If you do not believe me, go to the Smoke and Mirror fizz bar right now. Then come treat me to a drink at the Respite if you think I am right."

Brent secured a replacement for himself at his post and flew to the Smoke and Mirror. He then found his way to the Daven Bau cantina Respite and sat down heavily across from Darien in a booth. He summoned the bartender to bring him a tall glass of brandy, and one for Darien. He looked at the Warrior Prince with such round awe-struck eyes Darien knew Brent saw Echo Garin in her shimmering tunic. Darien did not hold back the taunting I-told-you-so laugh.

"We two old reprobates must steer clear of Glendon's daughter," Brent said at last. "It will have to be up to my son Triton to explore her depths." They clicked their glasses together in agreement.

Darien saw Glendon later on the observation deck in off-duty attire, sweaty but cheerful. "And just what have you been doing?" Darien asked him curiously.

"We have been moving. You father decided that an entire family of Naradi should be on board the Quantid instead of a GPQ. There goes the neighborhood, eh?"

"Quite the contrary. Adding Garins to the populace of the Quantid raises its worth immeasurably," Darien assured him.

Echo entered the observation deck with an armful of swords. She smiled at Darien happily, and he tried with concentrated effort not to eye her in speculation. She was a beauty but that was to be expected from a Garin. Proper prudes, every last one of them, he reminded himself. It is by an act of God that Glendon is our royal Naradi and happens to be a reasonable man.

"Mother asked if we are to keep these or send them over to one of the storage ships," Echo said to her father, with quick glances at Darien.

"We keep those. I heard that if one more item is crammed into one of the storage ships, they will burst like an overripe pushkas," Glendon told her. He took the swords and placed them on a seat, where he and Darien looked them over.

"Where did you get such a grand collection?" Darien asked.

"Here and there; they are a hobby of mine. The handles are quite impressive, but the blades are worn. Look at this one; cracked nearly the entire way down."

"Why not remove the blades and keep the handles?" Darien suggested, testing a still-worthy sword with a sweep through the air.

"But where would we keep them? We have a two-bedroom suite, and I am one man against two women who appreciate clothes collecting."

"I am not a collector," Echo objected. "Mother is the one with all the clothes. I would rather a sword collection." She also tested a sword, and her eyes met Darien's. Wordlessly, they assumed a stance against each other and carefully set about dueling.

Glendon watched for a moment. Darien was still very much in his cadet trainer mode, coaxing her to improve her fighting technique. It was much the same as Maranta Shanaugh used to do. Glendon smiled. Despite Darien’s doubts about himself, the Warrior General position was passed on to the rightful heir to the title.

"Does Erich ever test battle with you?" Glendon asked Darien.

"Aura will not let him," Darien replied with barely reined in contempt for his sister-in-law. "She is afraid he will break a nail or get a hair out of place."

"No, he is afraid he will do that," Echo snickered.

"You find no favor with my nephew?" Darien asked as they continued their mock battle.

"No, not particularly. I would like him better if he were just the plain old Erich Phillipi of our youth, instead of the Future Crown Prince Nib," Echo told him. Had it been physically possible, Darien's ears would have pricked up.

"Boasts his title, does he?"

"The older he gets, the more tiresome he gets," Echo lamented. The blade abruptly fell apart, and she was left with only the ornate handle.

"What do you do now?" Darien challenged in his booming voice. With quick thought and action, Echo pitched forward and somersaulted toward the prince, leaped to her feet, and took a swipe at his chin with her fist. He grabbed her wrist with his free hand, so she grasped his sword-wielding hand by the wrist with her other hand. They stood wrestling each other for a moment.

"Turning into Major Sword-and-Fist is not as easy as it seems," Echo grunted, and Darien laughed. He released her wrist and saluted her.

"Well met, little Naradi," he chuckled. "You will do your service branch proud." They all gathered up the swords and handles. "I have just the idea! Pile them into the Solenil and I will tuck them away on the Daven Bau in Carrol's triage bay when I get the chance."

"Does she use it?"

"Not the whole thing. Unless Gareth -" Darien did not finish the sentence, but he smiled a wicked smile which prompted Glendon to ask what, what? "Unless Gareth can someday convince her to utilize that bunk to heal his wounded heart." He glanced at Echo and abruptly cleared his throat. "You did not hear me say that, child."

"Hear what? I heard nothing," Echo replied, and enjoyed the wink Darien gave her.

Glendon did not notice the exchange as he shook his head. "Do not rush them. Alright, take these over to the Daven Bau. I suppose for as many warriors as have been sent to a medical bay because of swords, we may as well send over a few wounded swords in return."

fantasy
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About the Creator

Jay Michael Jones

I am a writer and an avid fan of goats. The two are not mutually exclusive.

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